


Liability

by jacemorgensterns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacemorgensterns/pseuds/jacemorgensterns
Summary: Going into his sixth year, Draco is facing the most impossible task of his life: killing Albus Dumbledore. He intends to figure it out alone. Some people, most notably Nymphadora Tonks and Hermione Granger, have other ideas about that.Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince AU from Draco's point of view. Dramione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Bound by blood

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my new slow-burn Dramione project. Half-Blood Prince was always my favourite of the seven books (alongside Prisoner of Azkaban, alas) and at some days the AUs just write themselves. I hope you enjoy!

It was a couple of days before September first when Draco made his way through Diagon Alley for the second time that month. He passed by Flourish and Blotts and gazed over his shoulder at Gringotts as he made a sharp left turn. Just like last time Diagon Alley was busy, but it wasn’t the kind of busy he was used to in the wizarding shopping street. Usually people would stand still to chat with whatever acquaintances they came across and check out shops because they wanted to see what’s new. Now everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get their last-minute shopping done before their kids went off to Hogwarts; everyone that didn’t have children going to Hogwarts knew not to go to Diagon Alley when it was this busy.

Draco wasn’t in a hurry. He wandered into the side street with his hands in his pockets, by all appearances simply walking by and not walking towards anywhere in particular. That he had a destination in mind was beside the point, because no one had to know that he did. According to Borgin it was possible that someone followed him last time, because the last time he’d been to Borgin and Burkes a witch came in not long afterwards querying about him. That just wouldn’t do. He hadn’t been careful enough last time and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

After all, he had plenty to worry about all by himself. He didn’t need people that thought he was up to something adding to it. He always was, and it was never good news, and whoever had done it should know as much by now and leave him alone.

He passed by a few men smoking muggle cigarettes – he wrinkled his nose at the scent – and an older woman who was mumbling to herself. Knockturn Alley was always filled with sketchy types, so it was probably for the better he had the hood of his cloak drawn up. Instead of walk into Borgin and Burkes immediately he stood still in front of the shop and studied the window display, as though studying the items in there before going in with the intent to buy something. The older witch passed him by. Just as Draco thought she was gone, she stood still beside him.

“Do you like anything you see?” she asked with a raspy voice.

“What do you want?” Draco asked. “Money? Will that make you go away? Because I’m not in the mood and usually above hurting women, but don’t test me.”

That got the woman’s attention, if the way she turned towards him was anything to go by. “You’re in danger,” she said softly.

No shit, Draco wanted to say. The Dark Lord was back and people were disappearing left and right. His father was in jail for ruining one of the most important operations in years, setting the Death Eaters back in their plans a lot, and he was suffering the consequences. That he was in danger seemed to be the bloody understatement of the century.

“You’re in danger if you don’t leave soon,” he said, already reaching for his wand. The Dark Lord would kill him if he got expelled for performing magic at Diagon Alley, but it was a problem that went away when they threw some money against it. If Potter got away with it by getting Dumbledore as a lawyer, it couldn’t be that big of an issue.

“Draco,” the woman said, undertone dry suddenly, “I may not know you very well, but I do know you’re not capable of hurting an old woman. I just want to have a word.”

Draco stared at her. How did she know his name? He’d been in the newspaper, sure, but he didn’t think anyone recognized him in Knockturn Alley. He’d hardly ever been here. This was only the second time this summer and he’d accompanied his father there just once before, but that had been years ago. Part of him immediately wanted to prove the woman wrong, but she’d done no harm so far and she may hurt him if he didn’t listen. There was no harm in a word, right?

“Fine,” Draco conceded. “No more than a minute. I have business to attend.”

It was with a sigh that he turned around and walked after the older woman. He passed by Borgin and Burkes and watched how she stood still in the doorway of a shop that had recently been trashed by the Death Eaters. The owner, someone who openly sided with Potter, had fled the scene and the Death Eaters had set the place on fire when they were done with it. The smoke damage was everywhere and there was hardly any merchandise left.

The woman turned away from him as he stood still in front of her and seemed to shake her head. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but when she turned to face him next her face had changed drastically. She was no longer an old woman. Instead, she was a young woman in her mid-twenties with dark brown hair and brown eyes, a striking resemblance to Bellatrix. She had the Black bone structure that Draco did too. It wasn’t Polyjuice Potion, because Draco hadn’t seen her drink anything. That could mean only one thing and that pissed him off.

“Is this how the Ministry operates these days, Nymphadora?” he spat at her. “Or the Order? Am I the weak link, is that is? Are you going to abduct me next and torture information out of me? I said I was usually above hurting women but this is starting to look like an exception to me.”

Nymphadora Tonks, in the flesh. The cousin that he didn’t (or at least wasn’t supposed to) acknowledge existed was standing in front of him with an undeniably irritated face expression. Andromeda Black married beneath her and was disowned. This was the result of that marriage. A young woman, an auror, an Order member and currently an enormous pain in Draco’s side.

She leaned against the doorway of the shop casually and studied him briefly, as though trying to figure him out before concluding there was nothing she could see other than the oh-so obvious irritation. “Tell me that you’re not involved in anything dark,” she challenged him, eyebrows raising. “Tell me that you’re wandering around Knockturn just because you’re fascinated with the place and nothing else. You can’t and you know it. You’re in trouble, Draco.”

“You can’t arrest me for wandering around Knockturn Alley,” Draco said. “I’m always in trouble. You don’t know that about me because we don’t know each other, but trouble is kind of my thing. You are, however, getting me in the kind of trouble I don’t enjoy: the trouble I’ll get into when I have to explain that my half-blood cousin of my mother’s blood traitor sister insisted to talk to me.”

Nymphadora sighed briefly. “I’m not surprised,” she said after a short silence. “But it’s not too late. We have to talk, whether you like it or not. From what I’ve gathered, it’s about life-and-death matters. Your father’s life, for starters.”

That remark set Draco on edge immediately. “What do you know about life-and-death matters that involve my father?” he snapped at her. “You don’t know anything.”

“No, but you just confirmed it has to do with your father’s life,” Nymphadora replied before she pressed on. “Just hear me out. Please. I know that you don’t think of me as your family, but I also know that blood means something.”

“Tainted blood doesn’t.”

“Draco -”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But this is the last favour I’m granting. Once you’re done I’m going back to the business I had to tend to and you’re going back to minding yours.” 

As it turned out, hearing Nymphadora out was going to have to happen in another location. Draco didn’t trust it, but he wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter. She was still an Auror, and if she already knew more than she was letting on she also could have arrested him based on the fact that he was a Death Eater alone. Arrested he wasn’t going to kill Dumbledore, so he let her take him away from Knockturn Alley by side-along apparition, complaining all the while he didn’t like side-along apparition (he really didn’t).

They apparated to what looked like a regular London street at first glance, with houses on both sides of the road and a small grocery store at the corner with a pub next to it. They crossed the street and passed through another side-street afterwards.

“Do you live here?” Draco asked his cousin.

“No one lives here,” Nymphadora replied. “We don’t know if we can trust you, so you wouldn’t bring you to a place that’s ours. Your possible allies don’t need the help, Draco.”

His possible allies were wondering where he was right about now, but that didn’t seem to bother Nymphadora, who moved on fast. She pushed open the door of a pub and made her way towards the bar. She looked over her shoulder at him then. “Do you want anything?”

Would she give him alcohol if he asked? Probably not. “A water, please,” he replied, resigning himself to the fact that this was apparently going to be a long sit.

Nymphadora ordered two waters, which she got from the bartender swiftly. She took both glasses over from him and made her way towards the back of the cafe, where they were sitting out of sight. When Draco walked after her, however, he realized she had invited another person to this clandestine meeting. Briefly, he thought he was looking at Bellatrix and his mind immediately made up a story about how the Death Eaters captured the real Nymphadora, used her hair to make Polyjuice Potion and tricked him to check his loyalty. But then he realized that wasn’t possible: Nymphadora was a metamorphmagus. He’d seen it up close. Whoever were to take Polyjuice Potion to look like her would look like her latest look, but wouldn’t get her abilities as well.

No, it wasn’t Bellatrix waiting for him. The same bone structure, again, the same cheekbones and her hair and eye colour was the same, but that was it. Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and slowly sat down at the table. He chose the seat in front of his aunt and next to his cousin. 

Andromeda Tonks took him in and smiled slowly. “Hi Draco,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. He was quick to pull back and watched how Andromeda and Nymphadora exchanged a glance. “We don’t have long,” Andromeda continued regardless, acting as though nothing had just happened. “I presume you know the story between your parents and myself?”

“You married a mudblood and had a daughter with him,” Draco said pointedly. “What did you expect was going to happen? That your family would be squealing with joy over those facts? You tainted our bloodline.”

“And yet you’re here,” Nymphadora pointed out, surprisingly calm considering that he had insulted her family yet again.

“I figured it was either this or get arrested, so I picked my poison,” he replied, shooting a look aside at her briefly. “But if you’re not going to arrest me, I have to go.”

When he did as much as move to get up, Nymphadora responded by taking his arm. His right arm, thankfully. She didn’t hold on tightly and he didn’t make much of an effort to get loose, though. He shot another glare at her before she let her go and he sunk down onto the chair.

“Draco, this meeting isn’t about me,” Andromeda said. “It’s about you. I may have left our family, but I know plenty about the Dark Lord and how he operates from all the years of listening to Bella’s, Rodolphus’ and Lucius’ stories. He doesn’t take failure very lightly. With your father arrested for what can only be considered one of the biggest failed missions of the Death Eaters, second only to Voldemort dying after trying to kill Harry Potter, I doubt he’s taken it lightly.”

Draco wanted to protest almost every word she spoke and had a number of insults at the ready to hurl at her, but he felt too tired to do it. This was going somewhere, he was sure, and he didn’t think the offer was going to end in him getting killed. The people that supported the Light like Andromeda and Nymphadora didn’t seem to believe in death threats. Maybe that was why institutions like the Order were so shockingly ineffective.

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked, feigning disinterest.

He saw mother and daughter exchange another glance. “We suspect that Voldemort -” he hadn’t cringed the last time Andromeda used that name, but now he couldn’t help it, “has taken out Lucius’ failure on you. People are worried about you. We’ve been keeping an eye on you this summer and you don’t seem to be doing very well, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“My father is in jail,” Draco said with a raised voice, causing multiple muggles to look at him. For the next sentence, he lowered his voice. “Excuse me if I don’t know how to handle that particularly well.”

Nymphadora had enough of the chit-chat. “Draco, what is he making you do?”

He looked aside at her briefly and contemplated what to say. The truth, obviously, was not among the options. Thankfully there was no way she could get that out of him due to the Occlumency he had been learning in the summer so far. “Who is making me do what?”

In a swift movement, Nymphadora reached out for his left arm, taking advantage of the fact that he had slumped in his chair and put his hands down in front of him at the table. Draco immediately tightened his muscles so she couldn’t turn his arm around to see if there was a Dark Mark even if she tried. After a couple of seconds she gave up and sighed.

“The fact that you’re fighting it proves there’s something you don’t want me to see,” she remarked.

“You can stop using your psychology bullshit on me,” he said. “I could have any number of things on my left arm that I don’t want you, Order member and half-blood, to see.”

“Draco,” Nymphadora said sharply, “Everyone is willing to let you struggle with whatever it is Voldemort wants you to do and is willing to let you face whatever the consequences are. The only people in your corner are us and you’ve not been someone I want to be in the corner of.”

“I don’t need you,” he said. “You’ve dragged me here thinking I’m yours to save, but I’m not. I can figure out a way to do what I have to. I have the entire school year. I’ll do it. I just need to know how. And I don’t need you stopping me or telling me I don’t have to do it, because I do.”

Nymphadora sighed again and leaned back against his own chair. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” she said flatly.

“I’m aware,” Draco replied, smiling dryly. “You’re too late. I don’t believe that you, or anyone, can do anything for me anymore. But you tried, so whatever makes you sleep at night, right?”

With that, he finished the glass of water that Nymphadora ordered for him and sighed. “Out of courtesy I’m going to say it was nice to meet you. Can you apparate me back or do I have to find my own way back and get lost?”

Nymphadora finished her glass as well and stood up. “I’ll take you back,” she said, eyeing him sadly. “Don’t get yourself in trouble, Draco. I’ll be in Hogsmeade this school year if you need me. I’m in the Three Broomsticks, so send me a letter and I’ll come and find you.”

That was a terrible plan, and Draco didn’t intend to hold her to it.


	2. The last soiree of the summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here's chapter two covering, you guessed it, the last soiree of the summer before Draco returns to Hogwarts, during which Draco has to face consequences for his actions - some of them, anyway. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!

The last weekend before September first, his mother insisted that they attend the End of Summer Soiree at the Greengrasses’ manor to keep up appearances. Draco protested, of course he did, but as per usual he wasn’t listened to. Personally he was pretty sure that showing up wasn’t going to stop their social circle from gossiping about them. It wouldn’t make reality go away: Lucius was still in jail, they were still exposed as a Death Eater family and no one should want to associate with them. Why they kept getting invites to soirees regardless was still a question, but according to his mother it worked out in their favour. They were the Malfoys, she said, and that meant something.

Currently, he felt like all that meant was that they were the punch line of a joke, but when he said that she glared at him and reminded him to have some pride.

When he walked into the hall in the dress robes that his mother picked out for him, Bella was watching from the doorway of the living room. “You look like Lucius,” she commented from there. “One of Lucius is plenty for this world.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “I doubt I look like my father,” he replied. He didn’t take over much specific Malfoy features; he was a Black through and through. The reason why people said he looked like Lucius was because of the hair colour, conveniently forgetting that his mother was blond as well. That aside, he didn’t want to imagine what his father looked like right now. He had attended the trial, of course, and had seen his father then, but they tried to make him look like they took care of him at least. He doubted that. He’d seen Bellatrix and Rodolphus once they escaped, after all.

Heels through the hallway announced that his mother was arriving as well. She looked him up and down and smiled approvingly. She fixed the collar and pushed a lock of his hair back that had fallen in front of his face. When she spoke, she looked over at Bellatrix. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours.” There were words in the undertone that she didn’t speak: that her sister shouldn’t trash the place. Bellatrix may be an adult, but she was an adult that was volatile and had bad temper tantrums that she liked to take out on whatever was in sight.

“Yes, have a good time,” Bellatrix replied with a bored undertone. “I never understood why anyone would voluntarily attend these events.”

His mother seemed to want to reply, but she shook her head once and laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” she told him softly.

As they walked to the front door and through the front gardens, Draco wondered what his mother had wanted to say. That Bellatrix wasn’t someone cut out to be an heiress of any sort anyway? That it was important to keep up appearances and play the masses, especially right now? It seemed to Draco that Bellatrix didn’t possess the calm and grace that someone needed to be able to get through soirees like these in one piece. His mother was the perfect socialite. It seemed easy, but during times like these it really wasn’t.

Before they apparated to the manor of the Greengrass family, his mother paused and looked him up and down again. “I know this has been hard on you,” she said softly. “And I know you don’t want to do this. But you have to, because you’re our heir. You’re the head of the family now. Don’t answer any questions about your father. Don’t respond to remarks about him. Keep your calm. Be polite. Smile and pretend like everything is fine, even if -” It really wasn’t?

“It’ll be fine, mom,” Draco reassured her. “It’s just a couple of hours. You didn’t spend years teaching me manners for me to forget basic decorum the moment it is most necessary for our family. I know what to do and what to say.” He didn’t like doing it, but he could do it.

His mother smiled briefly and nodded. Seconds later, she laid a hand on his arm and he got to experience the always-unpleasant feeling of Side-Along apparition. As soon as they arrived at the gates of the Greengrass property his mother straightened her back and offered her arm for him. He sighed briefly before he took her arm. They made their way to the Greengrass manor together.

Their arrival made quite a few heads turn. Apparently after not showing up the entire summer no one had expected them to show up now. The Greengrasses had always been good allies, though, and Draco wanted to bet that was also a part of showing up: it would have been rude to ignore an invitation of a family you were close to. It wouldn’t do to offend their last few allies in a time where they could use them.

Draco greeted Mr and Mrs Greengrass with a smile, a handshake and compliments about how wonderful their manor looked before moving onto Daphne, who was looking at him with wonder in her face expression. She hugged him regardless, but held on when he tried to let go.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” she said in his ear. “I haven’t seen you the entire summer other than in the newspaper and you didn’t respond to my letter. Pansy said -”

“We’re not going to talk about it here,” Draco replied. “We’ll have this conversation at school. Don’t listen to what Pansy says. She’s mad at me.”

That was when Daphne let him go. She studied him and shook her head then. “She should be,” she said pointedly. “You could have done better.”

But couldn’t everyone? Draco felt like his life was a domino effect of people that could have done better but refused to. Potter, firstly, for going to the Department of Mysteries while it was so overly obvious it was a trap. Then his father, for thinking he could outsmarten the boy that was known to have so much luck that he got away with everything. And then him, maybe. He wasn’t sure yet if he could have done better, even if Daphne clearly thought so.

Draco greeted Daphne’s younger sister Astoria as well and headed further inside the ballroom with his mother then. He took two glasses of firewhiskey from a waiter that passed by and handed one to his mother.

She side-eyed him. “You don’t drink,” she said. “And I shouldn’t drink, Draco. Especially not this early into the soiree.”

In a response, Draco downed the glass in one gulp and looked aside at his mother then. “It’s easier to deal with the looks, the whispers and the rumours when you’re a little intoxicated,” he said. “Bella said this midday that’s how she used to survive soirees.” Draco doubted that she’d been _a little_ intoxicated, but considered how much she taught him in the summer he figured he could do worse than listen to her.

His mother took a small sip of firewhiskey. “You shouldn’t listen to everything your aunt says,” she said then.

That made Draco think back to the day he met his other aunt, Andromeda, briefly. He hadn’t listened to her. She said things Bellatrix would never have said. That she was worried about him and what the Dark Lord was making him do. That she’d been keeping an eye out. Who did things like that for people that they didn’t even know?

“I guess it’s too late for that,” he replied. He pressed a kiss on his mother’s cheek and smiled at her. “I’m going to find Pansy and see if she wants to be in my company at all.”

“Okay,” his mother said. “Be kind to her, Draco.” Was he ever not? At second thought, that was probably good advice. “I’ll see you at the end of the evening.”

He nodded and put a hand on her arm briefly before he turned away and made his way towards the bar, where he correctly guessed his friends would be. Theo was sitting on a bar stool and was talking to Millicent, who was standing next to him. Blaise stood leaned against the wall, taking in the soiree, and Pansy was fidgeting with a drink. That left Gregory and Vincent, who seemed to be talking to someone who ordered a drink at the bar that Draco didn’t recognize at first glance. Daphne was, of course, still greeting guests by the side of her parents.

“Oh, look who decided to show,” Pansy said snidely as soon as he was in earshot. That distracted Theo and Millicent as well and he had four pairs of eyes on him.

“Hello to you too,” he replied dryly as he moved to put his hands in the pockets of his robes. “Blaise,” he acknowledged the other briefly before turning to look at Pansy again. “Can we talk? Please?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said with an air of haughtiness that his mother would be proud of. “You had two months to write me back to explain and you didn’t. You could have invited me to your manor or showed up at ours and you didn’t. You had your chance, Draco.”

“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll ask Daphne to dance with me then, instead of you.” He was bluffing, but Pansy didn’t know that and he knew exactly what to do to make her insecure. He turned around and made his way back in the direction of the entrance of the ballroom, where Daphne was still standing to greet the last guests. Already after a couple of feet he heard footsteps behind him.

Pansy caught up with him and stood still in front of him. “Fine,” she copied his choice of words. “We’ll talk. One dance. But this better be good, Malfoy.”

He had two months to think about what he did to Pansy – break up with her over a letter – but he yet had to regret it. The moment that he was told what was expected of him, he knew there was no way he could do both that and be the boyfriend Pansy wanted to have. Getting his father out of jail was more important than catering to Pansy’s whims, so he sent the letter. She had replied with a letter with some expletives and words that made clear she didn’t understand. When he didn’t reply a much sweeter letter followed with Pansy swearing they could fix what was wrong and that she would try and be a better girlfriend. It was better this way, but he doubted Pansy agreed.

They headed over to the dance floor. With the knowledge that neither him nor his mother had been spotted in public much the past summer, he could only assume that all eyes were on him and in extension therefore on Pansy too. She probably wouldn’t mind that. Pansy thrived when she was given attention, so she was probably happy to dance with him for that reason as well.

“I’m sorry,” he told her once they were dancing. Pansy was squeezing his hand unnecessarily hard and seemed to be looking over his shoulder instead of at him, but Draco would take it for now.

“For breaking up with me?” Pansy queried. “Because if that’s the case this is a really lousy apology, Draco. I expected at least a gift of some sort. Flowers are sort of tacky, but I will accept jewellery. It doesn’t even have to be a ring.” 

He stared at Pansy briefly. It didn’t even have to be a ring? Had she completely lost her mind? It was good to know that she apparently was willing to make concessions, even if she misread the situation and Draco hadn’t known there was talk of a ring to begin with. He also wasn’t sure what made her think of a ring since he’d broken up with her over a letter.

“No, I’m sorry for breaking up with you the way I did it,” he said. “I would have preferred to do it face-to-face so maybe moving past it may have been easier, but I wasn’t given the opportunity to do so. I’ve been very busy, so this was the only way I could do it.”

Pansy shook her head at him so wildly that a few locks of her hair, put in a carefully constructed knot, got loose. His fingers were aching to push them back behind her ear at least, but he knew he lost every right to do that. Some other guy should be pushing locks of Pansy’s hair back now.

“Draco, I love you, and I understand the past summer hasn’t been easy on you,” Pansy started. “But you don’t have to hide from any of us. We want to support you. You’re not alone in this.”

He sighed briefly. “Are you just saying this so I’ll realize I made a mistake breaking up with you? It’s not going to happen, Pansy. I did it and I stand by it. I can’t be your boyfriend any more. I have bigger things to deal with now.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. “Like what?” she asked, only to pause and then stare. “Tell me you didn’t get betrothed and didn’t tell me.”

That was Draco’s limit. He stopped dancing abruptly, ignoring the couple that almost ran into them, and pulled Pansy along to one of the three exits of the ballroom. Because it was summer, the most simple way to escape the ballroom was by taking the back door straight into the gardens. He pulled Pansy along to the nearest bench and sat down with her.

“What is going on with you?” he asked her. “Rings and betrothals? Since when are you so obsessed with things like that?” When he saw Pansy’s annoyed glare at him, he continued: “Not that I’m judging or anything, but this isn’t like you. We always made fun of old ideas like getting betrothed and getting married before we turned twenty. Did you change your mind?”

Pansy sighed and looked down at her hands. As soon as they sat down she pulled her hand away from his, folded her hands together and placed them on her lap, seemingly to stop her from fidgeting. “My mom was over the moon when I wrote to her that we were dating,” she said. “And I thought she would change her mind after the thing with your father happened, so I just told her when you broke up with me. As it turns out she actually appreciated your father embracing his beliefs, because it made clear what your family stands for. She was very disappointed and said I had to fix it because we’d be perfect together.”

Draco sighed. They could make fun of old-fashioned customs all they liked, but at the end of the day they were Sacred 28 and were expected to act like it. Old money meant heirlooms, and heirlooms were meant to be shared at an age that they hardly graduated Hogwarts. Draco had always been of the opinion he should not be getting married early, let alone have children, but he was also well aware it probably wasn’t going to be his to decide about. He was a Malfoy. He had responsibilities.

On the other hand, Draco thought as he studied Pansy, he could also use this to his advantage. Somehow Pansy had managed to spin his issues – including death threats for his parents and himself, a Dark Mark and an impossible task – around in a way that made them all about her. If he also made every conversation about Pansy and her issues, no one was going to look at him twice. His entire summer had been about avoiding Pansy instead of his father’s trial, and going back to school he was going to redirect all attention to Pansy.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he said, only half-genuinely, as he wrapped his arms around her. Pansy seemed happy to return the gesture. “Tell you what. You can tell your parents that once things settle around my family, we can see about getting together again. I just feel like I have to be in a more stable place before I can commit to anything. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I did it now.”

Pansy sniffed lightly and nodded in his arms then. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell them. Thank you, Draco.”

No, Draco thought, thank you.


End file.
